Well I am living the bachelorette dream. House to myself, I can walk to work and I can be as messy and spread out as I humanely possible. It’s fantastic. I haven’t cooked a proper meal since Hennie left. I have been subsisting on frozen dinners (like good veggie/gluten free ones), toast, more toast and alcohol. I’m within walking distance to one of my favourite pubs as well. What awesomeness is this. Anyways, I don’t think I can keep it up though. I have forgotten what vegetables look like. I’ve put on at least 5 pounds. One night after coming home from the pub I was hungry and the only thing I had was refried beans and pasta so I put those together and covered it in ketchup, oh boy, good times. Bachelorette life!

I haven’t been to the Glebe Video since University. But I was still on file when I went back last week! Not on a computer system file but in an actual physical binder full of sheets of names. Back in Uni when we went in, we were high as kites and the owner commented on how good we smelled. Then, as I recall, we rented an early Ewan McGregor “art film” (porn) which was just weird (exactly why we rented it). It’s odd now when you have actual human interactions with someone when renting movies. Not just clicking stupid things in Netflix. Someone is actually going to pick up the DVD you are renting, discuss it with you and tell you about the director and what else he did. I knew this would happen so I put back the seriously crap videos, like the probably terrible Disney film starring Jon Hamm’s penis. I knew I would be judged High Fidelity style on my choices. I got an international film (that looked like porn), a Canadian film (starring Riggins from Friday Night Lights) and a modern classic British film (Pirate Radio-LOVE!). The gentleman behind the desk hand wrote my receipt while telling me all about the director of the film that looked like Euro smut and told me all about the other movies he did. He said the film was a raunchy romp and kind of winked at me. I nodded like I knew completely what he was talking about and pretended I wasn’t feelng awkward out by the smut comments. The whole experience felt right. Even when I walked into one of the little rooms featuring British Films and a couple was having the most quiet dry, boring conversation about film techniques. Then as I gauged how much I disliked the people being arty dicks my stomach made noises like my intestines were mauling my colon. I left the room because it was too awkward and pretentious to bear. But regardless of that, great experience!

So I got the manager position at my work! Yay!!! I waited with bated breath for the e-mail that announces it to everyone that works for the company, like EVERYONE! I hadn’t seen it by the time I left work that day so I hoped it was the next day. The day of my interview, walking to work, all I did was picture the e-mail, announcing in lights that I got the job. It was a big deal. So when I arrived at work the next day, at least three people laughed at me and then repeated my last name as I walked through the store. And I was like, what? Sure we ALWAYS make fun of my last name, everyone all the time. Buttrum. Body part and an alcohol. I kept in blatantly for comedic purposes, it gets a laugh. But something seemed different. So as I sat down to to read my e-mails, there it was, the announcement. Disappointment number one, she shared the e-mail to announce another girl’s promotion as well, not just me, wtf, where was my individualized glory! But even worse, when I opened it, I saw it immediately, the announcement that Angela Buttram had got the job. Oh jesus christ on a cracker. As if my name wasn’t bad enough, it went from body part and an alcohol to anal in one letter. Come on!!! There is no better way to rain on one’s promotional parade then to make them the laughing stock of the store and change their name to a weirdly worded rough sexual act. Ah life. After I read it one of my staff quickly ran in to warn me but I told them it was to late, I had seen it. My announcement e-mail dreams shattered, by one letter. Fuck.

Anyways, to back track a bit, my interview way amazing. I was channelling a confident, business savvy she goddess while going through my powerpoint presentation! I did not even know I had powerpoint on my computer until a week ago! Yay! But it’s a program for dummies so I could figure it out and added pictures and made it look half fancy. I was SO stupid amazing in my interview that at one point someone asked how I would accomplish it all and I think I glared at them and smuggly responded, “just watch me” and then in my head I did a Trudeau inspired pirouette. So of course I power killed the interview and got the job with flying colours. Then the next day I started to panic. I was looking at my power point thinking, I promised so much, SO much in that interview that now it was sinking in what I actually needed to accomplish. Where was the confident ball sacky she hero now? I talked myself off a ledge all day (I was overtired) because I was genuinely concerned that I had promised the moon to everyone and realized that I was not an astronaut nor a planet fisherman. I think I will even out, I think it will get better. Right? RIGHT?? No, it’ll be fine…?

Ewan in the Pillow Book

Movie Review! Spoilers! (as if you hadn’t read the book)

Fifty Shades – A Tale of no Dick

Surrounded by my favourite ladies, some cheap chocolate and a water bottle sippy cup full of wine, I went to see Fifty Shades of Grey. I knew as soon as it started my heart would break knowing that it could have been Charlie Hunnam as Christian Grey. So when Jamie Dornan appeared I threw away my inner monologue the way my Dad does in all movies ever and in a tortured yelp cried oh god, it should have been Charlie! My ladies agreed, nods of approval came from those not suffering the same movie tourettes I have genetically inherited. And then the beautiful, but not quite Charlie, Jamie Dornan spoke. Why oh why had they made him do an American accent when he, so obviously, hails from the Irish Isle. It was so distracting, you are trying to focus on the forced, weird sexual tension but all you hear is Guiness…I mean you get over it because he is still gorgeous but they should have just let him be free and change Mr. Grey to the sexiest, dominant whip wielding leprechaun alive. It threw me for a loop, but nothing more so than the lack of male genitalia. I would say Fifty Shades, the book, had a primarily, if not entirely, vagina audience. So I assumed the movie would be a little bit more inclined to give the ladies what they came for. But it seemed Hollywood censored. Even the whips and chains felt a bit back room Disney. I guess I expected more than nipples and full grown bush (although that was a bit of a surprise). I thought, we are all adults here in this theatre (especially the single middle aged men sitting in the back, probably with no pants on) let’s see some genitalia as so described in the book. But alas, no such luck. I think my favourite part was reading an article the next day about a cinema in Glasgow finding soiled cucumbers in the seats after showing Fifty Shades. Or the woman that became so aroused in the theatre she crapped her pants and vomited at the same time (thank you Vice)?! It was no that crazy y’all! As soon as the credits ran I yelled, in my strongest Irish accent, that I couldn’t feckin’ believe there was no dick! No penis shot at all. Bottom line – it was actually better then I thought it would be, which isn’t saying a ton.

Montreal

We had a Montreal getaway! And nothing says romantic/work getaway then pulling up to your hotel only to realize the first floor is a sex shop. God bless you Montreal. Our hotel was nice. The toilet had it’s own room away from the shower and sink, so that was fucking weird but besides that it was great. Since New Years we have been pretending to eat vegan, minus all pizza break downs and me sneaking chocolate, pretty much daily. So we scouted out an awesome vegan restaurant to go to. I hate saying anything about veganism because the connotation that goes with it is so negative. Everyone knows a vegan they can’t stand just because they are a preachy herbivore. But the mix in this restaurant was fantastic. The lady that sat next to us looked homeless and was reading a philosophy book, ugh and the guy from the couple that sat on the other side of us wore a sweater that said I’d rather be hunting!! Amazing! We felt nourished and light and so full when we left, like our bodies were full of warm light and beans, so we did what all healthy people do, we then got trashed. We went to a few pubs then realized there were depanneurs everywhere so we might as well drink beers in our adorable, seedy hotel. And when we ran out of all our beers at 10:57 we raced down to the depanneur and secured enough beer to most definitely give us a hangover the next day. The next day we woke up early to get to the Canadian Health Food Show. I was, of course, hungover. I also realized I had not packed a brush and lost one of my earrings the night before, therefore would also look homeless for the remainder of the day. It was a fun day regardless, most of the reps at the show were terribly hungover too which made me feel I was definitely in the right industry, healthy by day, drunk by night! We could not leave the city without going back to the vegan restaurant and feeling pretend healthy, once again – high on on life, brown rice, veg and tempeh.

Bono Torture

I decided to put some new songs on my iphone. I never do this because it all seems complicated to me but once in awhile my mood changes drastically and I need different music to listen to. So I downloaded or uploaded or whatever all my new shit. And do you know what fucking happened? While looking at my purchased songs, a fucking U2 album appeared on my list! I freaked out, dropped my phone on the ground and then told Hennie I was going to flush it down the toilet. It was contaminated. It had been touched with Bono cancer and would now need to be destroyed. How had U2 infiltrated my phone? Did they know how much of a hater I was that they were trying to force themselves on me? Gawd. I still look at my phone like it is part enemy because I don’t even know how to get it off! I feel totally Bono violated.

House

So Hennie has gone home to be with his Mom who is sick in the hospital. Thus leaving me alone in a house I had arranged to look after, for the month. It was going to be a couple honeymoon but instead it is just me. And the house is the same house that I stayed at through most of Univeristy so I have hilarious memories of it. I messaged my friend saying I was here and didn’t he remember hanging out here drinking beers, eating a ton of Ben and Jerry’s while studying Chinese Politics? Ah Uni. I recall sitting in the living room all bundled up, watching tv and then a friend calling saying they were going out to the Whiskey Lounge that night and that I needed to join them and within 15 minutes I was out the door not to return for a day or two. So now it feels hilarious coming here with my supplements, ear plugs, books and warm sweaters while working every day at a job not even remotely related to my degree. Ah life.

Sushi

Dad, Ben and I went out for all you can eat sushi tonight. Our original sushi plan was foiled by a 30 minute wait so we went across the street to another smaller, more dodgy sushi place. As we walked in it became very clear everyone sitting in the centre of the restaurant knew each other and they were all very odd. What we decided was that it was either an impromptu trekkie parade, special bronies brigade or just an inbred science experiment that results from the family tree not branching out. We over ate, people watched and laughed until we choked on oddly oversized yam sushi rolls. I dared Ben to order this, mainly because of the name among other things…

So my brother’s car was stolen from a parking lot next to his buidling. Can you believe it? I mean I knew he lived in a dodgy area but I did not realize any part of the city was dodgy enough to wake up to your car having disappeared from your parking spot. After nearly a month and no word form the police he had given up and was awaiting the pay out form the insurance company. Then I get a call from Ben asking if I can drive him to the police station that evening because they had found his car!! And after it had been stolen it had been used in an armed robbery…I immediately tried to re-create the scene from the movie “The Other Guys” where they find their Prius that was stolen. I ask Ben if they think maybe a homeless orgy happened in the car (called a soup kitchen in the movie). Were Dirty Mike and the boys in your car? Is it covered in animal placenta and semen? Ben got really mad because apparently his roommate had just said all the same things. He told me to stop talking about his car in this manner but if I could still drive him to the cop shop to get the okay to pick it up.
After trying to figure out which one was still open at this time of night we head to Kanata to the fancy brand spanking new police station to see what the situation was with the car. Ben was excited, nervous, stressed about his car and also because I tend to act out in situations that involve the me dealing with authority or require me on my best behaviour. As I was rambling about all the stupid things I may do at the police station Ben turned to me and told me he wished he had chosen any other person on the planet other then me to go to the cop shop with him. I agreed with him slightly. When we got inside and took a number I told Ben that I hoped Captain Salt and Pepper served us because he was hawt! Ben looked at me and told me there were recording devices everywhere and they could hear what I was saying. I said if that was true then why didn’t they arrest me for all the PARKING TICKETS I have yet to pay because I feel some of them are ridiculous and made up (Unauthorized Angle?!). Ben tried to distract me by singing a song. I didn’t know it. He said he thought it was sung by that dead girl, Adele he said. I informed Ben that Adele was alive…Amy Winehouse perhaps? He thought that might be it but when I googled it, the only singer that had seemed to sing the song Ben was singing had been Kenny Rodgers, so he was a little off point. We laughed until we got noticed by the cops and they called our number.
The night ended by us finding a weird tow truck lot in the middle of nowhere and them telling Ben his car had been used in a well known, big in the news armed robbery and that we should google it when we got home. But neither the police or the super nice tow truck lot lady could give us details. They told Ben he could go see the car but couldn’t take it as the insurance company would have to inspect it first. In the dark we trudged to the side of the lot where we carefully open the car doors. I was expecting blood, maybe some other dodgy stains and perhaps a dead body in the back. But no, it seemed ok and all of Ben’s stuff was still there. His ridiculous collection of ties that he keeps in the trunk had not been touched! I was shocked because if I had stolen a car I would have definitely taken parting gifts from the car before I dumped it. Definitely would have taken a few ties. Anyways, to end the story Ben got his car back about a week later and there was no evidence of Mike and the Boys ever having a homeless orgy in it. The End.

The one thing about being back in a managerial role at work is that I have noticed my language change a lot. I mean, it’s ok at work when you are working on effective and clear ways to communicate with a group of people but I noticed the other day that I was kind of bringing it home. The garbage did not get put out today guys, it’s ok, I feel like it might have been a miscommunication on our part. Would it be helpful for me to create a rotating schedule of whose job it is to follow up with the garbage on a weekly basis or should we just try to work on our communication despite our varied schedules…I am worried I will soon start saying compliment sandwiches to people…Hennie I appreciate the cup of coffee, I did notice that you forgot to put the laundry in the dryer last night after I asked you, but thank you for emptying the dishwasher. My roommates and Hennie are going to love me.

Well I knew I had become too involved in Sons of Anarchy awhile ago but it went to another level this week. I actually became fragile about it. I don’t want to spoil it for people so if you need to stop reading, please do but I will try and be discreet. A lady, possibly my favourite tv character in the history of the world, died in this week’s episode. This character has inspired me to dress like her for Halloween, including putting in expensive extensions and buying a slashed reaper dress just to feel the part, to buy t-shirts with her on it asking what would she do, to even buying the soundtrack because she sings on it and is totally awesome. Then, on last week’s episode, in normal SOA fashion, she was brutally murdered. I felt like I knew it was coming but I still cried and cried like a crazy person. My only saving grace was that a friend, who for some amazing coincidence had left it to the same time as me to watch it, had texted me saying they were also crying. The rest of the night I felt a bit sick and depressed. The next day I texted my friend to commiserate and we both felt the world was a little darker that day because she was no longer with us. If this isn’t all ridiculous enough, I went out shopping with my sister two days later and she was like, so what did happen on Sons of Anarchy and I started tearing up telling her and couldn’t finish. Welcome to my hilariously pathetic life. I don’t even know how I will be able to emotionally handle the season finale this week. I just don’t. Ok I watched it. I’m devastated and can’t talk about it. I cried a lot. Wahhh.

Someone asked me the other day what I thought about the Diva Cup. I made a bit of a face. She said she thought that they might be weird. That maybe in order for them to work the Universe needed to be aligned properly, like the planets needed to be aligned for this magnificent item to function. I told her it would also help if one’s vagina was also aligned perfectly with that Universe as apparently mine never was because I could not for the life of me figure out how to work it or make it live in the right places it needed to be to do it’s job. She laughed so hard while her girlfriend walked away shaking her head…

Thank you to our neighbour who leaves out his snow shovels in plain sight when he goes to work so that we, the unsuspecting house beside him, can steal them to use as we do not own any and we have a driveway that needs maintaining. I told my roommate we will think of it as a commune where we can borrow anything of his, except without his knowing…basically we are shitty, poor neighbours.

I got a few free magazines from work, one of which is the British House & Garden magazine. Half way through it I was getting very angry that I was not a wealthy, older British person that lived in a zillion dollar (pound) ancient castle or church with an interior that shows both the history and artistic modern features. Where my kids wear expensive rubber boots and fur coats as they roam the well manicured, rainy grounds. With fireplaces in all the rooms and ridiculous chandeliers and antique wallpaper. Where rooms are named such things like the library or the cigar room or even the study or loft. Anyhoo, I’m not sure how to aspire to become an old British lady that comes from old money. This could be a difficult to impossible life goal. But they teach us in school that we can do anything right? New Years goal…

I had set up Hennie to try and cook a recipe from my favourite cookbook. This might seem like a menial everyday task but for Hennie, to be in the kitchen cooking, is a major feat. I have bought all the ingredients, found all the spices for him and e-mailed him the recipe. The first thing he asked was if he should start with saytaying part of the recipe. I said, it’s pronounced sauteing. He started yelling jokingly that if he could not say it, how the hell was he going to achieve the actual action of it?!!

I felt like a total moron the other day when I realized that I do not know how to send a letter in the city. I asked my roommate if I put it in our mail box if the post person would take it. She said probably not. She said I just needed to find a post office but I could not think of where. Then I realized I just probably had to find one of those mail boxes that show up occasionally. And then driving home one night I saw one and screeched on the brakes, grabbed my letters and sent them. Ridiculous city girl dilemma solved!

I always assume I can trust the ratings on Netlflix but I just saw Gilmore Girls had 5 stars…

Hennie passed is his Citizenship test!! With absolutely no help from me. One night his friend was over and a few of us were in the living room drinking beer. We decided now was a great time to start quizzing Hennie on his knowledge. What’s the capital of Saskatchewan? It’s Saskatoon I yelled. My roommate tells us it’s Regina. What’s the capital of BC? Vancouver I yelled! His friend says Victoria. Capital of Alberta? Someone yells Calgary. Turns out it’s Edmonton. Who is our Governor General? His friend says, it’s a woman and I say, please tell me you are not talking about Adrienne Clarkson. He says no the Haitian lady, oh yes Michaelle Jean. Nope not her. No one in the room knew. It’s David Johnston in case you were wondering. So we decided we were in no way qualified to help Hennie study for his test, that night or ever. Even last week, Hennie would ask me, as I walked past his studying nook, Do you know who Laura Secord is? Dr. Penfield? Bombardier? I, with confidence, would impart my Canadian knowledge graciously…Laura Secord=ice cream, chocolate, take me to Fitzgibbons, she had some info or something. Dr. Penfield? I smell burnt toast!! Something, something brain something. Bombarder, snowmobiles – is that really on the test? Despite my failure as a Canadian citizen, my husband aced his test.

We went to see Gone Girl. And honestly, how does that movie become marketed as a date movie?! It’s stressful. I had read the book and knew what was coming but apparently no one else did. I will NEVER go see a psychological thriller, if you can even call it that, in a theatre ever again. I was surrounded by people that weren’t sure what was going on in the movie and needed to talk it out with their neighbours. In a theatre! I kept passive aggressively turning around at the ladies behind me who had to have a meeting every time the movie took a turn. The old couple beside me probably couldn’t hear anything and therefore kept asking each other if possibly the other person had heard the line. And the lady a few rows up from me got bored somewhere in the middle, takes out her phone and starts texting everyone she knows that she is watching a movie. Good God. At the end of the movie I grabbed my purse, stood up and said rather loudly that I couldn’t believe all the fucktards in that theatre that had to discuss the movie out loud. Had no one read the book?? Does no one read anymore?? It was a bestseller for like ever!! And if you are so stressed by movies like this, you should have never come! No one needs the loud comments by the Housewives of Nepean sitting behind me “This is intense!” “Do you think he knew that this was happening” or “This is crazy, I can’t believe this.” How about, shut the fuck up this is a movie and you are killing the theatre buzz for me. I guess I’m the opposite of my Dad in this way. He yells out whatever he feels like during a movie, whenever he feels like it. Possibly, having gone to many movies with him, I have now turned into a silence nazi because of it.

Karaoke! So much fun. First time, I believe, I have ever done karaoke. Can you believe it? We walked into the upstairs of a dodgy Korean Bar where there were many numbered doors, leading to private karaoke rooms. As soon as I saw all the numbered rooms I told Rob that I felt like this bar had definitely been a sex club at some point. He agreed. We shuffled into the numbered door reserved for us and made ourselves comfortable. What a difference it made to have everyone comfortably sitting and facing the screen with the words on it while you sang. Everyone sang every song. Or yelled it depending on how awesome it was. We picked a lot of amazing songs and some shitty ones. Here are some of my favourite songs that did not translate well into a karaoke atmosphere. Born Slippy by Underworld. One of my favourite songs of all time. Rachelle and I were massively excited to see it on the list of mainly Korean and other obscure English songs. So we chose it. Any of you that know this song will think, we should have known better. But we tried it anyways. It was terrible. It’s mainly just one guy saying as many words as monotonously as possible as fast as he could in a row. We were quickly kicked off. Songs that were a hit were anything by Oasis, Queen, Spice Girls, I can’t remember any other songs but we were there for hours and I was drinking steadily. Another favourite song of mine that was fucking terrible in karaoke was Sound of Music. Nothing says Buzz Kill like operatic Julie Andrews attempts in the middle of a swinging party. We tried, we failed, they skipped the song and moved along. We also ran into someone from Almonte in the same karaoke bar which was hilarious. I have very little memory of how amazing the rest of the night was until we sat down at 3 am in a diner and ate a poutine. The Canadian way to end any evening of drinking and celebrating. Happy 30th Rob!!! xo

Someone the recently told me that I was funny and I should have a comedy blog!! What a weirdly accurate thing to say! I winked and gave them this web address;)

My Mom the other day was showing me these really nice leggings she got at Costco. I told her I never buy clothes there because I have to try everything on because I have no idea what my size is. So when I was over at her house today I asked her if maybe I could try the pair on that she got so I could at least get an idea of what size I am. Unless of course she was wearing them, then never mind. She told me she would go get them. She looked and looked and looked and I told her it was not important and to forget it. Don’t worry about it. She kept looking but I insisted she would find them. When we got home my phone was ringing. I answered it. My Mom says, funny story, I was wearing those damned pants from Costco the whole time.

My roommate and I decided today was the day. It was the day we decided to do something about our lawn or how I’m sure others refer to it, the neighborhood eyesore. During the summer we managed to keep up with the grass cutting but since the decline of the temperature and no one else volunteering for the job, it became a wasteland. We decided to take matters into our own hands. My friend, who had actually grew up in the country, had never used a lawn mower and was too scared to try it. I, on the other hand, grew up seriously back woods so I had no issue starting it and rocking it around. Cars were starting to slow down as they were rounding the bend in front of our house. I started to wonder what we must look like to the people who live across the street, with their perfectly manicured lawn and gardens. Our lawn had not been cut in over a month and a weed that looked like small trees had infested itself almost everywhere. We were literally living in a weeded forest in the middle of suburbia. It wasn’t just that our lawn looked like though, I realized people might have been looking at us too. Two girls doing yard work from the house that seems like a potential middle aged frat house with cats and a shed, full to the brim, with beer empties. But on top of that, I was cold so I had put on a skull/biker sweater hoodie, with a toque and couldn’t find mittens so I had put bright blue thermal socks on my hands. My roommate was wearing a leather jacket and leopard print pants. At point we took a break from yard work to try and put up a Sons of Anarchy flag but the wind got the better of us. We gave the neighborhood a good show I think. We even did a running high five when I actually figured out how to start the lawn mower, but that involved me letting go of the handle which turned it off immediately but whatever. We give the neighbours something to talk about…

Nothing is more hilarious then nervously going to a Nurse Practioner for a full lady physical only to find out there is a student there doing their placement and will be there for the whole exam! I congratulated her on getting to learn on my lady parts. I wish it had been twice the fun but there were some pretty hilarious hiccups I will not go into detail about but boy, is it a funny story…

Honestly, I’m not sure how it happened. I was sitting at home in my living room playing on my phone when some lads from Arnprior came to pick up my roommate Rachelle to watch my other roommate in a fighting competition in Gatineau. We were chatting and making small talk as they waited and then all of a sudden as they were leaving we put together that there was an extra ticket. I finished my drink, put on eyeliner and bolted into the car full of people I had just met and went to the fight! What a crazy riot. I haven’t been out of the Valley that long but it’s hilarious how you slip back into the accent being surrounded by people who say “perk the cer, fer sure. Giver!” I also forget how serious a sport drinking is for Valley boys. Trying to keep up with Arnprior lads who had a trunk full of coolers full of beer was a mistake on my part. After shot gunning (more chugging then shot gunning) a couple beers before the fight started I had to explain to them that I was too bloated to partake in the next drink. Nothing says party Debbie Downer like me complaining about bloated belly and munching on antacids for my heartburn. After some ridiculing (and belching) I decided to have another beer. Spontaneously throughout the night we would go back to the car to crack a few more. I tried my best to keep up I really did. The night was so much fun. We watched a whole lot of fighting, we screamed a lot of profanities, they made a million crude jokes that I eye rolled at, I threatened to fight one of them multiple times and I because I could not remember their names I gave them names. So while we watched my roommate fight I sat with my other roomie Rachelle, Ben Affleck, Matt Damon and “that guy” at the end. I also kept referencing Fubar because I felt, for most of the evening, that I was a character in that movie. I felt like Terry and Deaner could have absolutely have been from the ‘Prior. At one point, “that guy” tried to use the pick up line “Do you want to touch my mullet,” as he twirled the part of his hair cut that was the party at the back. (Mullet-business in the front, party in the back). He was dead serious and I laughed so hard. When we got back to the car, Ben Affleck was asleep in the car with the car alarm going off. Fun times were had by all.

Oh I am just traveling on business, no big deal… weeee, when I say that, I feel like I have a real job, hazaa! But there are, as always, a few downsides to traveling…

Firstly, I suffer from bathroom anxiety. There is next to no way in hell I will use a toilet on a bus. As if the walk of shame to the toilet isn’t enough, as you have just admitted your bladder is less useful then the rest of the travelers who can all somehow hold their pee until the one stop. But then the actual bathroom itself is just a stall of horrendous smelling satan toxic cleaner that I can smell from the front of the bus mixed with piss and herpes. So needless to say I anxiety peed about 4 times at the bus station before getting on the bus which seemed to have the opposite effect and turned my bladder into overdrive because as soon as I sat down on the bus I needed to pee. Damn you pee anxiety and peanut sized bladder! But because I am such a special, anxiety ridden, non-bus peeing person I TOTALLY WAITED THE 2.5 HOURS UNTIL THE STOP to go. I’m ridiculous and crazy all at the same time.

But this trip was much better than the last. When I left Toronto after my first week I had got to the bus station with plenty of time and waited diligently (asking random people in the station to watch my luggage as I ran back and forth to the bathroom a million times to pee) so I could try and ensure myself a window seat and hopefully two seats to myself. I got on, grabbed a seat and as they announced we would be leaving I congratulated myself on getting two seats together by taking out my books and phone and spreading out a little, relaxing. When all of a sudden this semi hippie looking couple run onto the bus. I looked up in a panic and thought, well there’s no fucking way, out of this whole bus, that they will sit next to me. I should look as maniacal and disturbed as I possibly can to avoid this. But nope, they walk up to me and one sits next to me and the other right across the aisle in another seat, I think, no freaking way! Oh well it could have been worse I guess. Then the girl across the aisle catches my eye and I take off my headphones and she says, would you mind moving as we would really like to sit together. My first thought was, fuck right off, you are sitting next to him, there is just an aisle between you. And why exactly do you need to be so close for a bus ride? Aren’t you just going to read and listen to music anyways? Hennie and I were once on a 7 hour flight back from England (with matching disgusting colds and booger faces) that we somehow didn’t get seats together on, but it didn’t bloody matter as we just watched a million movies anyways, blew our noses and then pretended to sleep! Like get a grip couple that feels like they need to touch for a whole 5 hour bus ride, get a grip. But instead of saying that I say, uhhhh ok? Like a question. Like are you serious? Are you really asking me to leave my cozy window to sit next to the girl with a thousand bags at her feet? Really? And as I get up putting by best annoyed face on I smash my head into the light ceiling thing above where one sits. The girl makes an empathetic yelp for me and I just scowl. So I finally move all my shit to the other side, THE AISLE seat. I am terribly annoyed and then I turn to see the girl I am sitting next to is now talking on her cell phone incredibly loudly like she did many times during the trip. So I turn to the couple and scowl going yup, look, look what I am dealing with. Then her bags start falling onto my feet and I hope the couple is feeling bad. Then the girl puts her bare feet onto the seat, sitting cross legged and one is touching me and they smell. I decide that the couple next to me should be cursed forever. I look over and they are kissing and I think, fuck off. This is how crazy things happen on Greyhound buses, I swear. Then I look over a bit later to scowl at them again as the girl sitting next to me has turned on her side to sleep and her bum is crossing our seat separation barrier.  Across the aisle the guy is giving the girl a massage. I nearly hurled. Anyways, I was obviously tired to be such a sac of crap for literally the whole 5 hours bus ride but I kid you not, I was absolutely a scowly faced curmudgeon the whole damned time! F U Greyhound couple, fo realz.

Here are things I have learned about Toronto…

-Every cab driver will warn you about the other cab drivers ripping you off. The one that does not do this is blatantly ripping you off. I have taken a cab from the bus station to Mississauga three times now and the price has ranged extortionately.

-Strangers have a lot of balls here, like too many. I now critique my hair in the mirror every time I catch a reflection of myself at work because of the guy who told me I needed a hair cut. It was just so weird! We had been chatting in the cafe for like twenty minutes about what there is to do in Mississauga (nothing btw) and then all of a sudden he points to a lady and says that I should get my hair cut like that. I turn to see the short in the back long at the front cut I had for years. I said I had already had that and it was too much maintenance. He insists I should get that cut or perhaps more like a bob. Then he tells me some places to get my hair cut down by the water because I absolutely need more style. If this guy himself had been stylish and perhaps a gay stylist I would have appreciated the friendly advice but this guy was extremely plain looking wearing a plain business suit. So I decided he must have a weird hair fetish and I excused myself immediately after.

-The other ballsy stranger was one of the cab drivers. He was a Lebanese guy who scolded me immediately when I responded to his question of which way do you want to go downtown with “I dunno, the shortest way?”. He freaked out telling me that’s how I would get ripped off by other drivers but not him etc. etc. Then he started bragging about his kids. They were both engineers, working for amazing companies like Bombardier and places like that. He asks what I do. He asks what I went to school for – Political Science. He explains to me all the jobs that I could have had with that and I tune him out because he is obviously drunk. Then he asks how old I am – thirty. What? You only have two more years to have kids! That’s it! After that, no way, too old! So I was already feeling bad about my job, my education and now we was telling me that my baby making parts were going to self destruct in t-minus 2 years. Well wtf buddy. Wtf.

-The kindness of strangers in Toronto. Today someone told me I looked like Mary Louise Parker. Was she implying I looked like a drug dealing soccer Mom? Possibly. But I will take that as a compliment anyways!

I arrived home to Ottawa on Friday only to realize it’s fall! Apparently the leaves have been changing and I had no idea because I was living in the cement playground that is Mississauga. I got out of my hotel every morning, walked through the mall, through a Wal-Mart (which is a terrible way to start your day btw) and then through a parking lot to WF. Did not see trees except in my Zen Garden I found and none of those leaves had changed. I felt like I had been living in a weird scene from Futurama, staying in a bland, generic hotel room next to the Marilyn Munro buildings, being surrounded my condos and malls and seeing no nature whatsoever. At one point in my stay my air conditioner broke so they moved me two floor down to the exact same room. I felt like I was in a scary sci-fi movie. I did, at one point, eventually find the waterfront which was nice, but it seemed like a weird anomaly as compared to the rest of it.

Well it has started happening. The beer belly has started creeping back. I hadn’t been to a gym in over a month. I also have done what new University students do when they move out, I think we called it putting on the Freshman 10. All freshman gain 10lbs the first year of school due to mainly eating mac and cheese and drinking a lot of beer. Well, I have done this…again…I moved into a place with roommates and I have spent the last month drinking beer, munching on social nibblies and eating everything else barbecued. I put on the just-turned-30 5 lbs. So today when I thought it was a good idea to do a Body Pump class at Good Life, I absolutely should have known better. It is one full hour of non-stop weight lifting. It was the scariest workout I have ever done. It makes those Jane Fonda tapes I used to work out to as a kid look like a fucking walk in the park (with giant hair and leg warmers). The Good LIfe I went to for this class is situated in a Loblaws, the second level but still in the Loblaws. My legs had become such piles of jelly that I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to make it down the stairs and that I would end up head first in the little enclave where Asian ladies make sushi all day. Anyways I did it. My whole body has the shakes but I bloody well did it. This first Good Life we went to was another one off of Pinecrest. We went for a class called Bodyflow which they say is Yoga, Tai Chi and Pilates. But it is most definitely none of those things. Blasting pop music at you and yelling your next move is definitely not yoga and I am sure anyone who has ever done Tai Chi would be totally disgusted. I forgot a mat so I grabbed one and it was so dirty the blue had turned black. I spent most of the class barefoot on a matt that I was sure would give me a disease. Even, when previous to the class, they were showing us around the gym I didn’t see anyone actively cleaning the machines as you would at the other gyms I am used to. I was trying to not think about how much sweat had seeped into my mat to make is black during cool down (which many people leave before which is crazy to me because Savasana is the best part!) when panic overtook me and my eyes darted open only to see 2 giant ceiling fans above me that were absolutely black with dust! Ewww!!

Has anyone else discovered the joys of the free stuff section on Kijiji? What an amazing thing! I can browse it for hours thinking, wow what can I do with those free cement blocks they look intriguing or free biblical signs. I shit you not…

Date Listed
18-Jul-14
Price
Free
Address
Courtright, ON N0N 1H0

View map

Extraordinary displays of God’s glory, or ‘biblical signs’ if you will, are now being seen over many nations. You are not going to hear about this on the news.

Take a look at the photos in this ad and then visit http://www.revelation12.ca for more images, video, and prophecy about what is going on! You are going to be blown away….

Be sure to read the wedding invitation that Jesus spoke about in the Matthew 22 parable, His return for the wedding guests could happen at any time!

Because I tend to believe what people say about the Universe when I read it in the free section of Kijiji. But anyways, we decided to “shop” for a free tv. The first one I scored was in Almonte and the heaviest television known to mankind! Ben and I could not lift it. It was a stressful episode and one that resulted in failure. By the time I got this beast home (it took up the whole back of the Yaris) it had broken. Total fail. But, as I was telling Hennie, the key to free stuff on Kijiji is you have to act fast. So while we were out at a diner I took a quick look and saw a free, not 10000lbs tv in Kanata. I messaged them immediately and said we could be there in half an hour. I’m sure she must have wondered, why were they not as work? But then, we are shopping for free stuff online so the general conclusion was probably that we are totally unemployed, sitting on our free couch looking for other free scores from the magical world of the interweb. But anyways, we made it there in 20 minutes and got an awesome thousand year old Sony tv, wooot! Other amazing things that can be found on free kijiji….used cooking oil, toilet, assassin snails and weird baby staff like empty sacks for breast milk storage.

Oh boy do we have a colourful neighborhood! There is a pizza place on the corner that always has a million dudes out front hanging in their Hondas or Toyotas. Our roomate went down to get a slice of pizza and they didn’t have any. My suspicions were correct, it is in fact not a pizza place but a drug front. Which makes me worry because across the street there is a dude with dreads hanging out all day in front of his complex and people come to see him and then leave so I assumed he was also selling drugs. And I don’t think these people are working together. But judging by the amount of police presence in the neighborhood, I’m also wondering if the old couple that sit out front of their house all day waving at all the cars passing might also be selling drugs. Maybe a more socially acceptable kind. Prescriptions perhaps? Anyways, I haven’t seen them in days so we think the pizza guys might have offed them in the gang wars. Agnes and Herbert might have become casualties to the pizza mafia.

So I am going to blame my lack of writing to a) the fact that I do not have a desk or proper place for my comic genius to flow and b) my Mac laptop needs to be plugged in at all times for it can no longer hold a charge. So if I am casually snuggling up to a plug socket in the wall and someone walks by and trips on my cord, all is lost. A truly annoying problem. So I decided to make the damned appointment and take it to the doctor’s (genius bar at Apple store). My biggest fear has always been taking my computer to have a hispter hat and glasses wearing Apple employee look at my computer only for random porn to show up on the screen. Hennie explained to me that random porn will not just show up on your screen because you are in the store, you would have to have been actively watching it and not shut down your computer in order for that to even possibly be a problem. So a few days earlier before taking it to the shop I had been watching Mad Men through a dodgy streaming site when I had accidentally pulled on the cord and lost power and therefore swore violently and gave up. I put the computer in it’s sack and the next time I opened it was to show Mr. tight jeans and cool lingo guy at Apple. And to my absolute fucking horror as my computer screen lights up it has gone back to my Mad Men screen, which because I am watching it off a dodgy streaming site, there are two simultaneous ads on either side of Don Draper of a girl having wayyyy too much fun with herself…naked. I started tourettes yelling Mad Men! Mad Men! I was watching Mad Men! Mad Men! It’s an ad! I didn’t choose it! Oh god, oh god, close the screen! Even the hispter guy was like woah! can you exit out of this for me please Ma’am? I was like NOOOO I was watching Mad Men and those are ads. Can’t you see DOn Draper? And Joan? Dammit!!! Oh fucking forget it. I could NOT believe that it had actually happened. What. Are. The. Chances.

So I spent a week house sitting in Clayton a week ago. I know I know. I was done with the house sitting stuff but said yes to some friends that absolutely could not find anyone. Plus it was the week of our 5th wedding anniversary and I thought it might be fun to pretend to be able to afford a vacation…in Clayton. Too bad Hennie ended up not being there most of the time due to his work schedule (fail!) but he was there on our actual anniversary so huzzah! Clayton! I told Hennie for our anniversary week I would go get the oil changed on the car, something he had been asking me to do in Carleton Place for months and months. I told him I even did it like an old school viking or a pioneer. I had no internet or cell reception so I had used a phone book and a landline to call. Yay me! I had no idea how often I would google stupid things until I was in a house with no interweb. During my stay in Clayton I decided to have a fun day trip to Perth to look for the perfect anniversary gift as well as check out the Perth Brewery. The first shop I went to in Perth had the most perfect gift for Hennie. I got him a beach towel that was a kilt. Because nothing says 5 years of love and devotion like a Scottish beach towel, am I right? No seriously, we met in Scotland and he inexplicably wore a kilt at our wedding, so I thought the beach towel was fucking amazing. Then I went to the Perth Brewery! What an exciting place! A very good looking guy was almost as excited as I was to be standing in a brewery, with a list of different types of beer that were all gluten free! I think I cried a little after the third sample. I started naming off all the terrible gluten free beer I had had over the years and I felt like all the worlds problems were no longer relevant as I found a tasty gluten free beer. He even gave me a free beer for our anniversary celebration! And after having a couple samples I was able to just walk behind the brewery to the gluten free bakery and eat a sandwich! A fucking sandwich!!! These things were all foreign to me! Beer and a sandwich?! I realized that between Foodsmiths, the Perth Brewery and the Purest Bakery, Perth was turning into the Mecca for sad bowels! The holy grail for lazy intestined people! A very exciting day indeed!

I have discovered Hennie’s kryptonite. We cannot discuss anything to do with insurance without Hennie turning into an angry Hulk. The first time we ever went in to get an insurance quote, Hennie leaned across the desk of the agent and asked how he slept at night in a very threatening voice. Then recently when we were changing all our insurance again, even at the mere mention of it made Hennie into a rage-a-holic. And every time these things happened I made a mental note. The reason being is, as a kid, I watched a kids game show called KidsStreet. (This took me half an hour on google to get the name of it btw.) Your partner would leave and then you would be asked questions about the partner like, what was her favourite food and they would come back and you would compare answers. I am positive there was an adult version of it to but whatever. So when I see Hennie lose his shit over something like insurance, I picture us, should we ever get on that game show answering that question correctly. They would ask me, name one thing that makes your husband totally turn into a crazy mad person and I would yell insurance! Then he would come out and say the same thing! Weee! Yes, I do take mental notes of things like this in case of possibly being on a game show that hasn’t existed in years…this makes sense…

Driving in the city is a whole other ball game. I am used to things like racoons, turtles or tractors slowing me down on my speed race to work. But here, it’s just traffic. It’s just a ridiculous abundance of other cars and street lights where it’s impossible to get anywhere fast unless you are on the highway. For instance it can take me fifteen minutes to get to the Loblaws at the end of the street or 25 minutes to get to Carleton Place. It is sooo crazy like that!

I’m not sure about this turning thirty thing. To me it just seems like after thirty people will really expect me to pop out a baby, own a house, settle down, be responsible and my boobs, which are already a bit sad, will just become arm pit decorations. Sigh, what a sad state of affairs. 30 sucks.

We went to see Aretha Franklin!! Who was amazing! We showed up only to find a million people in lawn chairs. I have never understood bringing a chair to a concert. Sit on the grass or stand, figure it out people. But my Mom, of course, found the standing and dancing area. After my Mom loudly complained about the height of the people in front of us they acknowledged she was indeed right and let her stand in front/beside them. But My Mom needed space y’all! She was grooving up a storm! I was doing my best to keep up but when my midget of a Mother is on a dance roll, there is no stopping her and no keeping up. It was a riot.

We went on a crazy cycling adventure yesterday! We biked from the house (off of Iris) to the Civic to visit my Grandma then to Cafe My House for a vegan lunch. It was 45 minutes each way in the blistering heat. But wow, the bike paths here are amazing!! I hadn’t been biking in a few years so about half an hour in I needed a break to possibly vomit. Then I kept yelling to Hennie in front of me that if this trip got any longer, I could see the benefits of vaginal rejuvenation surgery and it might be needed at some point. My seat also would randomly move front and back as it needed to be tightened. Hennie asked how I dealt with that while biking. I told him I adjusted it by having sex with it a little. It’s like a pelvic thrust, it really drives your insa-a-a-ne. Then on the way back I kept yelling about how painful my undercarriage was and that my dream rest of the day would be spent sitting on a soft cushion. My lady parts did require a break after that, I am even considering buying biking shorts. I don’t know how people do it?! I already bought a fat ass cushionie bike seat, should I just duck tape a pillow to it?!

Our new neighborhood is like Boca Raton retirement meets the Hood. Ghettos to the left of me, old people to the right, here I am stuck in the middle with you. I figured we would fit in just perfectly as we represent a bit of column A and a bit of column B. But after our first week here we heard the neighbours were already complaining and bitching about Tina, my Honda parked on the street…really?? 50 feet down the road there are generally cop cars and gang activity and you are worried about my Grandma’s old Honda?! Give me a break!

We were visiting my Grandma the other night at the hospital. We seemed to be getting somewhere in the conversation when Grandma said there was something wrong with her but she didn’t know what. So I took my chance, I knew I could make my Grandma understand, so I looked at her and told her that Grandma, you hit your head. But unfortunately it came out in a thick Irish accent. So I tried again, Grandma you heet your hayed. I was struggling. Dad was laughing at me and Grandma looked more confused then ever. I tried one last time but it was no good, the Irish accent was stuck. My poor Grandma, not only was she confused, she had also woke up to a family that had become Irish. I couldn’t figure it out. Maybe it was a line from a movie or something that was permanently etched into my brain? There are some things that I absolutely can’t say without accents it’s true, but I didn’t realize that was one of them. Dad suggested that when I grow up I could become an Irish nurse. Maybe it was just multiple personalities shining through, who knows. But we laughed, we cried, we hoped Grandma wasn’t more confused then when we got there by thinking one of her Grandchildren was Sinead O’Connor.

Tank top season is upon us and I am joining the normal people crowd and actually wearing them this year. Weee! I still have chubby arms but I have balanced it out with muscles. I now casually take people to the gun show whenever I can. I’m creepy. I heard on the news today that girls in school are getting in trouble for having their bra straps show while wearing tanks. This is a serious problem for gals. I actually have to wear cardigans with my tanks because I wear big girl bras. They are not just little pretty lacy pieces of material for show like in La Senza, no, they are magical hydraulic lady machinery built for keeping the weapons of mass destruction at attention. I imagine it takes a team of people to assemble these things. So regardless of the tank top cut, my Betty & Veronica storage accessory always seems to be showing. So I’m siding with the ladies who feel they are being discriminated against for their clothing. Find me a tank top that doesn’t show my bra in some way and I will wear it! But until then, deal with it. Apparently I also have giant underwear too. I have now seen three people at the gym wear shorts that are the exact same size as my boy short/hipster underwear. What I wear as a vagina basket others wear as regular shorts. Ballsy! Well played ladies, getting rid of one piece of clothing to get gross and sweaty, well played.

Jon Hamm’s penis is in a movie right now and for some reason no one will go see it with me. I know it’s a dreaded Disney movie but come on, Jon Hamm! Maybe people are being put off by me calling the movie Jon Hamm’s penis. Who knows.

I have this weird thing happen to me now where I think I hear my alarm before it goes off. I wear ear plugs because I need certain types of sensory deprivation to focus on my sleeping. I can be up for hours hearing weird sounds and creating full length movies in my head just about that one single sound. It’s not good. I once told Hennie his sleep breathing sounds like far away screams and it keeps me up all night, frightened. So anyways, ear plugs are necessary. But now I can phantom hear the Sons of Anarchy theme (my alarm) so much that I end up pulling out the ear plugs because I can’t tell real alarm from one in my head alarm. It’s so stupid. I sing the theme to SOA in my head over and over until my actual alarm goes off. I should probably change it soon or I will start having morning anxiety every time I watch the new season of Sons.

We are moving into Ottawa in like a week! Weee! Living in the city will be a big adjustment. We are house sitting in Almonte right now and even that is an adjustment. The cats wanted to be let out the other morning, EARLY, so I came down opened up the front door, went out onto the porch, grabbed the paper, filled their food dish and went back to bed. As I was walking up the stairs I realized I had gone out in my underwear and a shirt that says California cougar. We are housesitting in a very populated area of town and I wonder if at least one parent saw and told their sons to stay away from the house with the pantless cougar lady. I have now texted a wrong number twice now. The first time was to switch a work shift and the unknown person texted back saying they were not the right person but good luck on switching your shift! I thought, wow, the kindness of strangers. The second text was not so smooth. I had seen a friend post that they were getting rid of a thing you hang pots from in the kitchen. I was interested and got her number from a friend. So I wrote a text saying, hey I am super interested in your pot hanger, I saw it on Facebook, I think it will be super useful in my new place. Wrong number, they wrote back. I apologized and started driving and then realized, I wonder if I should text back what I mean by pot hanger. Did they think I meant a contraption for hanging and drying pot? Did this person just assume I was speaking of my drug op business and should I clarify what I meant or would that make it seem dodgier and more like a cover up. Ack! Wrong numbers! I left it, if a stranger thinks I’m cool enough to text about drug paraphernalia, I’ll take it.

We went to buy a bed at Sleep Country! We are practically adults! Or we pretended to be adults but we failed miserably. It was apparent we were failing when he mentioned pocket coils in the mattress and Hennie and I started snickering. Coils! Hennie never gets mad but the one time he got super mad at someone he said he was going to leave a coil on their car, it was quite creative I thought. So coils is a terribly funny trigger word for us. Then the sales guy asked if we knew the three F’s of mattress buying, Hennie and I were giggling and after the the first F, firmness, I tourettes yelled out, omg the next one has to be fucking! Good thing he was a cool guy because he thought that was hilarious. I assumed every second person in the world would think of that when he said F’s with mattresses but apparently not. Even when he left us to try out a mattress in the big storefront window, Hennie had to test out the bed with his weird bounces that he does in order to change positions. He looked like he was testing out the bed by having a seizure. Then he reached across and pretended to grope me. Hennie was concerned if we bought the mattress that I would also sing the Sleep Country jingle every night before bed which is a total possibility. We were laughing so hard. We only play adults on television, not in real life. We have slept in a lot of crazy beds over the years with our gypsy lifestyle and finally, FINALLY, we own the best bed ever. Hazaaaa!

The best thing about Springtime is that people start to clean there houses out. And the shit you can find at the end of people’s driveways is totally stellar. I am still upset with myself about clipping along and driving past what I thought to be a canoe shelf (looks like half a boat cut in half, stands vertical and is a shelf, for you non-Canadians). An item I have always wanted to own. I got back to the house and in emergency out of breathe-ness demanded Hennie go get it with me, he refused. Then I asked Dad, he also refused. I knew if my Mother had been home she would have been screaming, starting the alarm bells, jumped into the batmobile and peeled out of the driveway with an emergency flashing light she could have kept in the glove compartment to signify she was on the way to catch a good deal. She was very disappointed in me for not returning by myself because a canoe shelf is indeed an epic score. I drove by later that night and of course it was gone. DAMMIT!! How did I drive by a bloody canoe shelf?!?! NEVER again I vowed.
I have been job hunting like a crazy person because, well, moving day is around the corner and I had not got my shit together for work in the city yet. I would be endlessly amused by the random job postings though. I wondered how far I could get in the interview process for the company looking for a hot air balloon pilot. Oh sure, you just pull this cord, make some fire and off ya go. But finally, after months of stressing, discouragement and endless applications I landed myself the job I had been gunning for. Hazaa! Even though, apparently in my interview I said the words “I’m young” too many times and that really put them off. And I didn’t know the lady well enough to to tell her that those were obvious telltale signs I was having a mid-life crisis but instead explained to her that it meant I was excited to learn. I have one month left to say I am young and then it is all over, apparently that’s when one becomes an adult, sigh. Despite the hilarity that was my interview, because when I get nervous I resort to comedy and then it tends to go down hill, I got the job at Whole Foods. So yay! I will be scarily underemployed for the summer though so if anyone knows of any summer work I could do until September I am in! Except for berry picking, that was the shortest job I ever had. Worked 3 hours, handed in my basket of berries and never came back. That shit is hard yo!

I write notes in my phone of funny things as they happen so I can either enjoy them later or write about them. I just found the notes God bless Jesus and banjo earrings and I have no recollection as to what that pertains too but it sounds like it could have been super funny.

I had an impromptu night out the other night. After spending a wonderful day with my friend and her kids and a box of wine, I decided to keep the party going after I left and headed to the local bar. At this bar I ran into someone I probably hadn’t seen in a million years and then continued drinking with him and his wife until the wee hours of the morning. The evening ended in a blur but the next day I found a thesaurus in my bag and a video on my phone of us in Pizza Pizza where I am yelling a speech about how gluten free people were parias of society and should be shot, as I order a gf pizza. And then I swear a lot. Omg how embarrassing. Then they are like 5 short videos of me trying to take selfies of all of us but totally being on video mode instead. Priceless. A few days later I found a romance novel in my purse too which I had never seen. So that night out was the gift that kept on giving 🙂

There is a woodpecker that has been waking me up at 5 am for over a week now. He is beak hammering the fucking aluminum siding of the house closest to my head. I have opened my eyes and fantasized about murdering this bird many times. As a vegetarian I am generally not cool with killing animals but I have given my Dad full permission to utilize force as he sees fit. So he went and bought a plastic owl. Not totally what I had in mind. The lady at the shop told him that they peck on loud things as like a mating call. And this has been going on awhile so I assume the female woodpeckers have also decided that this woodpecker should probably ride the short bus and not peck into hard siding for hours at a time. They are not interested in Woody the Woodpecker meets the side of the house, it’s not natural, it’s kind of cheating. He is either incredibly clever or dumb as a post. But it’s weird to start everyday with happy visions of exploding woodpeckers, it really is.

In light of my milestone birthday coming up I have started to compile a list of things I would like to do in my early thirties, so far I have…

-learn to ride a motorcycle
-join a gang
-sing karaoke
-kill a woodpecker
-plant my own garden and not kill everything
-own a Muskoka chair
-start a comedy youtube channel with Rob
-start a band
-go to a country I have never been too
-create and star in a tv show about weird festivals all over the world

Whew I am exhausted already.